


tour thing

by cyclogenesis (addictedkitten)



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 02:18:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addictedkitten/pseuds/cyclogenesis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh, the perils of casual sex with someone you have a big, stupid crush on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tour thing

It's a pleasure, watching Michael take it. His pale skin gets all flushed, from his blushing cheeks down his neck to the top of his chest, getting redder as he works himself on Harry's cock, hands braced on Harry's chest, biting his lip and grinding his hips, then shifting up a little, like he's still trying to figure it out, what feels good, how to love a cock up his arse. 

He is, probably. It's the third time they've done this - so easy to keep track on the whirlwind of tour, their first kiss in Birmingham, teaching Michael to suck cock in Glasgow, the first time they fucked in Sheffield. Which makes this the third time Michael's been fucked, ever. The first time he's been on top of Harry, riding him like this. Harry digs his fingers into Michael's pale thighs, guides him forward an inch and starts to thrust up, helping him out, and Michael swallows, stares down at him, looking so prettily overwhelmed.

Harry pats his thigh, feels his face split into a grin, and it startles a laugh out of Michael, turning into a giggle as Harry crosses his eyes and sticks his tongue out. Harry bucks his hips, bouncing Michael on his cock, and Michael's giggles cut off into a groan. 

"I'm-" gasps Michael, "I'm telling Twitter you make funny faces during sex."

Harry pulls an even sillier face, dances his fingers up Michael's sides where he knows he's a little ticklish. "Instagram it," Harry suggests as Michael laughs, bats at his hands, squirms on his dick. "Do a Vine of my silly faces. Or a Keek, little sex tape for the fans."

"How many new followers do you think I'd get for that?" Michael asks. He reaches behind himself, feels at the base of Harry's cock where it's got him fucked open, and Harry presses his thumbs to Michael's hipbones, a little overwhelmed by the feel of it, Michael rubbing at his own stretched hole, fingers prodding at Harry's balls like he can't get enough of it, Harry stuffing him full. "Couple of porno shots of your cock up my ass."

"Jesus," Harry says, his hips jerking helplessly up, making Michael gasp. "Spin around, let me see."

"Get my iPhone, go for it," Michael says, quirking an eyebrow, and Harry's half-tempted to, Michael hasn't given a fuck so far about seeming whatever. He'd probably be Harry's boyfriend if Harry asked, come out, hold his hand and all that. Harry tamps firmly down on any such thoughts; it's not going to happen.

It's fine enough that Michael's lifting himself up off Harry's cock, whining a little like he can't help it once it leaves him. He swings a skinny thigh around, resettles himself facing away from Harry, and Harry can see his hole all pink and wet with lube, gaping a little when he rubs back against the firm line of Harry's cock, like Michael's body wants Harry back inside as bad as Harry wants to be there. Still Michael teases him, raising up on his knees, rubbing the head of Harry's cock over his hole, almost pushing in but not quite, until Harry's the one whining, "Michaellll."

Michael looks over his shoulder, grins at Harry, and purses his lips like he's blowing Harry a kiss. Harry gives him his fiercest 'get on with it' look in return, but Michael just looks fond. Then his face goes a bit slack, his eyes slipping shut as he gives in and lowers himself back down on Harry's dick. It looks huge going back in his arse, and Harry thinks of when they first did this, how Michael had bumped into him the next morning at the venue, mumbled, "I'm still sore," and Harry had apologized, made it up to him with stolen kisses in the dressing room closet, a quick, sloppy blowjob that left him with come in his hair and aching knees. "Wasn't really complaining," Michael had said afterward, with a cheeky grin, and the chase through the halls that followed had probably not been the venue security's favorite part of the day.

"Go on then, give us a show," Harry says, even though he's not picked up Michael's iPhone and has no intention of doing so. Not that he wouldn't like something for his personal collection, but he's not insane. It isn't worth the risk, even though from this angle...well, it might be. It's a nice picture, Michael's pale back, the bumps of his spine, the curve of his arse sat on Harry's cock, taking it in. His arm's moving, and Harry can hear him stroking himself, one hand braced on Harry's thigh, the little noises he can't help making. Harry wants to do something ridiculous and decadent, put his hands behind his head and relax and watch his cock ridden by a pretty boy, but Michael'd probably take the piss after if he caught him. Anyway it's nicer to get his hands on Michael's hips, guide him a little. Michael makes the sweetest sound when he does.  

"Enjoying the view?" Michael asks, a little breathlessly now. He's rocking harder on Harry's dick, lifting up a few inches at a time before dropping back down without much care like he likes it that way, stuffing himself abruptly full and then taking it back away, like he's just using Harry's cock to pleasure himself. Harry strokes the soft skin of his hips and lets him, likes it, likes being used. Michael glances back over his shoulder again, awfully coquettish for a seventeen-year-old emo kid, and Harry raises an eyebrow at him, thrusts his hips up hard, bounces Michael on his cock. 

"You know I am," Harry says. He's trying hard to focus; he doesn't want to come before Michael does, but it's difficult, Michael's so tight, feels too good to hold out. Michael flashes him a grin, turns back around and keeps stroking himself. "What is it, love, you just want me to tell you you're pretty?" Harry says in a flash of inspiration, and Michael moans, tightens up around his cock, and Harry feels a splash of come on his thigh. 

It takes a moment of a Michael breathing hard, his nice soft shoulders shuddering before he manages, "Shut _up_ ," and sags a little, settling on Harry's cock with it sunk all the way in him like he's comfortable there. Harry laughs a little, can't help it, and Michael clenches around his dick so Harry's laugh breaks down the middle, becomes a moan. "How do you want me?" he asks, and Harry rolls his eyes to the ceiling, tries not to come just at that, desperate not to be a slave to a dirty-talking tour hookup. He is stronger than that, oh yes he is.

Harry's not got much energy left for a proper pounding, but he still manages, "On your back," and Michael obliges, rising up and then tumbling cutely onto his back, spreading his legs open and lifting his hips up. He smiles at Harry, lazy and sparkly-eyed like a little anime character with his spiky hair, and it's fair, okay, it's fair to have a crush on the person you're shagging. It only makes sense. Harry gathers Michael's hips up, spreads him out nicely over his come-smeared thighs and pushes back in, maybe a little too quickly to wipe the smirk off Michael's face, but it only gets replaced by some blissfully sexed-out lip biting. "I like you," Harry says stupidly, and rolls his eyes at himself, starts to fuck Michael again, faster, harder.

"Good," Michael says, arches up into it, his hands back against the pillows like Harry could hold him down if he wanted, like Harry could do anything he wants with him. So Harry does, bends him in half, leans in and kisses him, Michael's thighs straining, wrapped around his waist, and Michael just takes it, kisses him back, arse tight around his cock and arms warm around his neck, until Harry pulls away with a gasp, so close he can fucking taste it - 

"Can I come on you?" he asks, and Michael nods, falls back against the pillows, all flushed pale skin and softness, pretty pink nipples and a softly rounded tummy like Harry used to have, so much bitable flesh to mark up and so little time. Harry pulls out, takes the condom off and rises up on his knees between Michael’s spread legs, stroking himself furiously until he comes over Michael's stomach and chest, watching his come streak over Michael's skin, standing out white on the reddish blush of him. It's so hot that Harry's dick hurts, wishing he could come harder, longer, twelve more times in a row, cover Michael in his come, his stomach, chest, face, thighs, arse. Put that on Instagram, fuck. 

Harry collapses onto the bed next to him. "Good?" he manages, once he's sort of got his breath back.

"Good," Michael says. He shrugs. "Because I like you too." He runs a curious finger over a streak of Harry's come across his nipple, helplessly twitching a little at the feeling, then licks at his fingertip. Harry's cock jerks in sympathy.

Harry flails his arms out, nearly knocks Michael in the forehead. "Come cuddle," he says, and Michael shuffles over, drapes himself half-across Harry and settles in with a sigh. 

It's good.

Harry's in trouble.


End file.
